


She Wore Twilight Blue

by Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Western, Detective Noir, Future Hyrule, Gen, Murder Mystery, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7341643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise/pseuds/Burdenedwithgloriousporpoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I left the detective life behind when I signed over Ordon Ranch, but the dame was dead set on bringing me back. Said the boss that killed ol' Bo was part of a crime chain. I'd already brought the man to justice and lost a good friend in the process; I wasn't about to get myself neck deep again. Only after that blue-skinned broad of an accomplice showed up with a knife to my throat did I decide to give their proposal a listen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Wore Twilight Blue

A knock on the side of the stable door and Epona whinnies. I pause, my right hand on her nose and my left at the revolver on my thigh.

A woman in the doorway, dressed sharp in a skirt suit with a brimmed hat shading her eyes. Her voice has the local drawl, but it's somehow off. “Mind if I come in?”

I've never seen the dame and I don't like strangers since after the incident, but I pat Epona's face and shrug. “If you don't mind my working.” I continue brushing her down, kneeling to clean her hooves.

Heels pat on the dirt floor and stop beside us. Her bearing isn't like the folks round here; she carries herself with regal poise.

“I don't like mincing words, so I'll cut to the chase. I need your help.” Forced, that's what was wrong with it. The accent wasn't natural. I continue brushing down Epona, heart beating faster. I take my time, and when I'm good 'n' done I stand and brush myself off. I put on a pleasant air. “Whadaya need?”

Her face is drawn, sophisticated. There's a weight in her eyes that I ain't seen since...since... Coldness spreads through my chest. She's not buying my levity and ain't even pretending to hide what she wants. My hands settle on my hips and I sigh. “Look...I might know--”

“Link.”

My heart drops. Yeah, I know what she's here for. “Ma'am, I ain't a detective. That—that was just once. Got as far away from that life as I could and you can bet your sweet tomorrah' I ain't goin' back. I'm a cattle-driver now.”

“That case you solved--”

“Put me deeper than I ever wanted to go, cost my mentor's life and almost cost me mine. I'm done, Sweetheart!” My heart's racing—she's taken aback. I shake my head and lower my voice. “I'm sorry. I...” I run a hand through my hair, put it back on my hip and study the ground. I open my mouth, but after a second or so I sigh and close it again. “You're best off findin' someone else, Hon'.”

Her blue eyes stare me down, rock-hard, ice-cold, burning with indignation. “Don't you at least want to listen before you brush me off?”

I don't answer, can't quite meet her gaze. The whole reason I became a cattle-driver was to escape this mess.

“You remember what happened with 'King' Bulblin.”

My heart is racing now, face flushing. I shake my head again. “I told you I'm done.” I step past her and head for the door. Epona whinnies.

The dame's voice follows me: “He was just a pawn.”

“Don't care.” I leave the stable and head towards the ranch.

“You remember Bo?”

My chest aches at the memory and I ascend the stairs. I open the door and she jams in a foot as I close it.

“You sent Bulblin for a swing but he was--”

“Get your foot outta my door, Toots.”

Her eyes flash and her accent drops. Her voice is perfectly smooth, cultured. “Don't call me Toots.”

“Ooh, big city dame, huh? Down from Castle Town?”

“You could say that.”

“I don't know how things work there, but out here if I say get your foot outta my door, you get your foot outta my door.”

“Bulblin may have been the 'King', but he had a--”

“I don't care! Now move your foot or I'm gonna move it for you.”

Her voice still sounds neutral. “I honestly thought you'd care more about stopping the man who murdered your boss. You were close, weren't you? Heard you liked his daughter, before she lost her memory.”

I slam the door open. “I said we're done! Y' hear me?”

She loses a shade of color but gains it back in an instant.

Shame bubbles up. I'm not one to lose my temper, and certainly not at a gal. I open my mouth to apologize before closing it. She was the one who needed to learn boundaries.

“We have a lead to his boss.”

I re-enter the house but she darts in past me and slams the door behind us. This woman's just as pushy as...I sigh, take off my boots and enter the kitchen with her toes practically on my heels. I get a glass of water and a shot of whisky, homebrewed by Fado and the boys, and bite my tongue before I offer her any. She's the reason I'm taking shots at barely three in the afternoon. I drink and it burns. Whoever says it's an acquired taste is a through-the-teeth liar.

A gal's voice from behind me. “Ain't you gonna share?”

I whirl and my gun's out in an instant.

My heart leaps into my throat while its previous residence tightens. She's blue. Not just pale, but actually blue. Her lips are brown, her hair is orange.

Midna.

Her teeth flash pearly white as she laughs. “Oo, aren't you scary? Put your gun away, I'm on your side. Just like the good old days, huh?”

My hand tightens on my gun. “I told you I was done, Midna. I told you I was--!” I inhale deeply, exhale slowly, free hand clenching and unclenching. I glance from her to the skirtsuit woman, back again. “My side?” I snort. “Apparently not even I know what that is.”

“Avenging Bo, stupid.”

“Already did that. Honoring his memory by carrying on his trade. You should know. You were there.” I jerk my thumb at the skirtsuit woman. “This broad wasn't. Not sure what she's got to do with any of this, save a run-around attempt to get something you know I ain't gonna give ya.”

Midna snorts and looks back to the other dame, now seated at my kitchen table like she's right at home. “Don't worry, Zelda. He seems awful dense, but he'll get it eventually.”

Zelda? Like the princess? My heart hits the soles of my feet. This ain't my day.

Zelda's expression and voice are completely neutral. “We'll see.” She nods. Midna grins. “Alright, Hon'—” A snap and pain splits my hand, gun flying and suddenly I'm back against the counter with a knife at my throat and my old partner in my face, still smiling. “I'd say I hate to do this, but it'd be a lie. So sitcha down next to Zelda and listen to what she has to say.”

“We both know you ain't gonna kill me outright.” But at this point, I might as well at least listen—if only to make her stop.

“You're right. We need you.” The knife flicks down and nicks a three-inch cut on my left shoulder. I hiss in surprise and clutch it with my right hand. Hot blood coats my palm and soaks into my shirt.

“So we'll get you one way or another. Have a seat, hmm?” She steps back, twirling the knife between her fingers. The blade spins so fast it looks like one translucent shape.

Hating myself, I sit beside Zelda and nurse my shoulder.

She smiles. “Sorry about Midna. But you know how she is. She's my...what are you, dear?”

Midna ignores the chair and sits on the tabletop, throws one leg over the other and winks. “Persuasion.”

Zelda smiles. “Right. Now that you've been persuaded, I think we can get off to a fresh start. Let's talk about the 'King'.” 

**Author's Note:**

> And now, in a departure from all my previous work...XD  
> I saw this lovely piece of fanart: http://astoralexander.deviantart.com/art/Twilight-Gal-495611815 , and was seized with the intense desire to write Noir Zelda.  
> Note for anyone not having heard 40's Noir lingo: "Toots" (also pronounced "Tuhts") is a casual way to refer to a gal/broad/dame. Implies familiarity and is consequently perhaps a bit rough coming from a stranger, but can be endearing (or annoying) coming from a friend.


End file.
